To Taunt or to Tease?
by Harri83
Summary: Is there ever a time or technique that Gene can use to get Alex to do as she's told? Yes, yes there is. This is a follow up to my story Naughty Girl though you certainly don't have to have read that! It is however kinky and PWP with no redeeming features!


**This started off as an exploration of the feelings and sensations of a power play dynamic. Unfortunately when these two started speaking I feel it lost some of it's potency. I hope you enjoy cos even though I'm not happy they Gene and Alex wouldn't let me write what I wanted!**

**There IS kinky stuff in this story. **

He watches her closely. She is all too aware of him. The blindfold stops her from seeing, the scarf binding her wrists stops her from reaching out to find him. Still, she is excruciatingly aware of him. It seems like an age since he touched her. Since he slipped on the blindfold, tied her hands and pushed her to her knees in the middle of the room.

She knows he is circling her. Appraising her. Daring her; waiting for her to break the rules. She listens, tries to assess exactly where he is. What he is going to do next. She almost smiles at that, there is no way of knowing if it will be caressing kisses or bruising blows. That's for him to decide. She agreed to this, she knows how to stop it if she needs to but she never does. It's too delicious to bring to a halt. Every time they do this she's wet long before he touches her.

Sometimes he praises her for it. Sometimes he taunts her with it. Even she isn't sure which she prefers.

Her right hand is cramping. He told her not to move; she's unsure if flexing her hand will count. She is immobilised by conflicting desires. Caught between her desire to please him, to stay completely still as ordered and her desire to push him, to test him, to gain a reaction.

The basic need for comfort wins out in the end. In for a penny in for a pound she flexes her fingers, shifting on her knees as she does so, moving her weight to a slightly different spot.

He tsk's at her, grabbing her chin and forcing her face up, as if she could see him through the blindfold. "That was a very silly thing to do." He states, voice hard and authoritative. "Five minutes was all you had to last. Now I have to punish you."

She squirms as heat washes over her whole body, rushing down between her thighs and starting the familiar throbbing as he slowly but indubitably pushes her head downwards. She has no hands to reach out and stop herself but she trusts him to guide her into position. On her knees, face to the floor, arse up high. His favourite, for more reasons than one.

He takes in the sight of her literally bent to his will. The wonder of it hits him again. His own dual desire in this situation. The desire to protect and cherish and love, wars with the desire to take, to mark, to own. She bites her lip as she waits to see how he will punish her and it's almost his undoing.

Alex Drake is the most glorious creature he has ever set eyes on and he'll be forever grateful that she coaxed him into these games. He doubts their professional relationship would have lasted otherwise. He can't brook insubordination from the rest of the team but he needs it from her. He needs her to push and question and challenge him. He might never admit it but it keeps him going, keeps him on track. No, he wouldn't change a thing about her, as annoyed as he sometimes gets. But here, it's different. Here is the balance. Here, for him, is the control he wields expertly in his job but does not have over _her_ in everyday life. He knows these games give her something she needs, she'd never allow it otherwise and he is happy to be the instrument of her pleasure.

The longer he makes her wait the faster her breathing is becoming, not helped by the tight lacing of the corset he requested she wear this evening. The urge to squirm, to attempt to create some friction where she needs it most is almost overwhelming. She already aches and throbs at his footsteps; echoing around and around her, measuring out a countdown to an undisclosed punishment and making her want to cry out. He hasn't even touched her yet, not really. How does he do it?

Just as the urge seems too great to ignore, it begins. A blow which makes her gasp. Flesh on flesh, the almighty sting and the spreading heat. Then another. And another and another. She squeezes her eyes shut when he pauses, all too aware of her bottom, prominent in this position and how it must look to him; vulnerable and marked with his handprints. A final blow catches stingingly at the juncture of thigh and buttock and she lets out a squeak.

Suddenly his mouth is at her ear; warm breath blowing over her neck causing her own to catch in her throat. "I thought I told you to be quiet," he growls.

She wants to protest, tell him the last one took her by surprise. She wants to apologise, desperately wants him to have something good to say about her. She knows better than to do either. She's learned some of his lessons at least.

"Going to be one of those nights is it Bolls? One of those nights where you do nothing right because you're a stubborn, disobedient little tart!"

She almost falls for it, almost answers him; her lips part to form a denial but she clamps them shut just as quickly. She can almost hear him smile before he snorts in amusement.

"Well, Bolls, if that's how you want to play it…" she hears him move round behind her. A second later he is shoving her legs apart with his feet. Her face slides along the carpet and she hopes she doesn't get rug burns.

Finally she is positioned to his liking and he repeats the previous blows, noting with satisfaction that there's not a peep out of her. He admires her he really does; they both know that some of his requirements are designed for her to fail, designed to elicit retribution but she battles it all the way. She never just gives in which makes it all the sweeter for them both when she _does_ slip. Time to up the ante.

Her brow furrows and the muscles in her legs and bottom clench with the effort of staying still as his hand slides between her legs. He'd laughed when she'd taken her clothes off earlier and he saw she was wearing knickers, accusing her of naïve optimism before ordering her to remove them. There is no barrier now between him and the smooth slick heat between her thighs. He stifles his own groan as he discovers irrefutable proof of how much she enjoys this.

One hand caresses that magical place that makes her wail and moan for him the other tracing his handprints on her behind before raking his nails over the reddened flesh. She shudders involuntarily under the twin assault and is entirely ready and waiting for the sharp smack this transgression earns her. The heat from his palm ripples goosebumps across her flesh as she fights not to push against his questing fingers; she wonders if she could risk begging yet.

"Do you have any idea how wet you are?" his voice is teasing, almost scornful. "I knew it from the first moment I saw you. Knew you'd be a dirty little whore. I've known some in my time but you take the cake. Soaking wet and desperate before I'd even laid a hand on you."

So it was taunting tonight then. She'd long since stopped analysing why it turned her on so much.

"What did it do you think?" a hand tugging gently at the blindfold, the scarf around her wrists, "was it this, hmmm or maybe this? Or maybe it was just getting on your knees for me?" his own breathing is becoming more laboured now.

"Hmmm was that it? Maybe it was this," another stinging meeting of his hand and her backside, the involuntary clenching of her buttock and thigh muscles. With a groan he frees himself from the confines of his trousers and pushes himself between her folds. He glides forward without entering, his tip nudging where it has most effect.

"Or maybe, it's simply the thought of _this_?" A slow movement of the hips back and forth so she feels every inch of him against her. The way you're soaking it even now, tells me that you're thinking of nothing but my cock. You want it inside you don't you?" Again, he squeezes at her reddened backside, his breathing deepening as he slowly runs himself between her smooth, warm folds.

She bites her lip hard, straining now to keep from giving in and pushing herself against him. The urge to try to clamp her thighs together and rub herself to oblivion, is a second away from taking complete control. She is shocked out of her inner struggle by a hand cracking hard across her right buttock. Harder than any other tonight. She's dimly aware that he's speaking, his words reaching her as if through water and she tries to blot out the red haze which is surrounding her, focussing her thoughts only between her legs.

"I asked you a bloody question." He repeats both statement and smack, his hips continuing their slow rocking back and forth. "When I ask you a question I expect a bloody answer. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the word falls out of her mouth, high pitched and breathy. This is it, his actions, his words; everything tonight has led to this moment. This is the moment where she completely gives up her control. It's easy to pretend, but this, this is a leap of faith, a leap taken in complete trust of his love and respect for her. He can do what he wishes but she knows for certain he will not cross her limits; being able to give up control is the most liberating experience she has ever had. Here and now she does not need to think, here and now she can forget what she left behind in the future and forget her struggle to get back, her struggle to develop the policing skills of the team. She can forget just as much as she wants to forget. She has no more focus than this room and this man and the inferno threatening to engulf her from his wicked touch.

"Yes, I understand," she repeats. Another hard smack.

"Yes, what?" he is still as a statue and tension fills the air as he waits for her to realise her mistake.

"Yes, Sir!" she gulps, unable to believe she made such a fundamental mistake. It's not like he hasn't drummed this lesson home before. "I'm sorry, I'm soo soo sorry Sir, I won't forget again. I promise. It's just that…"

His grip on her hair, yanking her body up, flush with his, stops her mid speech.

"Alex, you're yammering. You bloody well know better than that. Stop talking."

She curses his grip on her hair, desperate to bow her head show him with her body language how sorry she is. But she is held and controlled by him and she doesn't dare speak again, she'd be mad to defy a direct order.

"Now we've got two problems Bolls. One, you still haven't answered me and two, your complete lack of respect." Letting go and stepping away from her he is pleased to see she immediately drops her head. He begins to circle her, his steps slow and steady, weighing up his options. She flinches as he leans down and once more rumbles into her ear.

"Do you actually have any respect for me?"

"Yes! Yes Sir, I do!" there's a hint of desperation to her voice. He knows she wants to say more, state her case with long words and the interminable sentences she is famous for but she knows better than to do that here.

"Well if that's the case Alex, you're going to prove it to me. Until I say so, no matter what I say or do to you, you WILL NOT cum. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Sir, I understand." Her heart sinks as she says it. He used her name, not Bollykeks or Bolls; Alex. He means business. She would have reached her peak already if he hadn't stopped touching her and she has no idea how she will stop herself now. He never issues that order without following up with a concerted effort to make her disobey. He likes to see her struggle, the sadistic bastard, likes to ridicule her lack of control. She only hopes that this will be an occasion where he does eventually relent. Those are the best orgasms she has ever experienced but it wouldn't be the first time he decided to teach her a lesson by denying her completely, leaving her desperate and wanting until the next time they played.

Tipping her chin up once more, he reaches back and gently tugs the knot in the blindfold free. As it slides from her face their eyes meet. Hers, pleading and apologising, simultaneously; his, hard as steel with a faint gleam of menace.

"You've really pissed me off," he tells her sending a shiver down her spine and causing her eyes to drop to the floor. "I don't want to hear apologies; you're going to show me. Get yourself over there and get over the end of that sofa, and don't even think about getting off your knees."

Gaze still dropped she moves quickly. She wants to make him happy again, wants to hear his approval, not that she thinks it'll be forthcoming any time soon. She doesn't even notice how the skin on her knees rasps against the wooden floor. Draping herself over the arm of the low sofa she closes her eyes, burying her face in its seat as his hand is suddenly between her legs. Slowly, teasingly, expertly he rubs and pulls and tweaks in all the ways he knows drive her to distraction.

Her whole body goes rigid and he knows she is fighting her need to move, press against him, cry out just as hard as she can and he smiles to himself. Now will come the real test. Rolling her over onto her back he grins maliciously as he slides a hand under each buttock, pulling her to him and licking slowly upwards between her legs. Her eyes close and he allows it for now, not wanting to break his impetus or give her arousal a chance to slow.

Alex fights the urge to cry in frustration as his clever tongue and lips play over her, fanning her inner fire even higher than she thought possible. She honestly feels she might combust or burst as he continues to work her towards a pinnacle she must not reach. Perversely her desperation only grows stronger when he chuckles against her, laughing at her agitation and the small mewling sounds that he doesn't think she even realises she's making, before redoubling his efforts with mouth and fingers.

"Open your eyes," he commands, grinning again when she complies, her eyes revealing the sheer need she is feeling. His tone is mocking as he continues, doing nothing but make her hotter. "Do you think you're going to last Alex? Do you think you can really control your dirty little body? Do you want to beg me? Do you want to plead with me to fuck you hard, to stick my tongue in you? Poor poor Alex, can't do any of those things can you?"

Her brow furrows and her eyes become massive pools filled with entreaty and want. She can't look at him yet she can't seem to look away.

"Never mind the puppy dog eyes Alex. _You're_ the one who couldn't do as she was told. _You're _the one who needs to learn her place. You can give begging a go now if you want." The end of his speech is accompanied by his fingers pushing into her with no pretence of gentleness. She arches her back unable to stop herself pushing towards them as she begins to do just as he suggested, her words falling over one another.

"Please, please please Sir,….I can't, I can't hold on….so hot Sir, I'm going to explode please I need you inside me…you're right I need your cock I want it inside me need you so hard so…..PLEASE!"

"No."

Alex understood now why her hands were still tied uncomfortably behind and beneath her. Had they been free she couldn't guarantee that his calm denial in the face of her begging wouldn't have led to her flying at him and taking what she needed. How could he deny her, couldn't he see the agony she was in, couldn't he see that she HAD to have release form this throbbing, red hot pulsating desperation between her legs?

"Please please please…. I'll be good, I'll do what you say and I'll never disrespect you again. Just please please fuck me! Let me cum!"

"Oh I'm going to fuck you alright. I'm going to do exactly what you want and slide my big hard cock right inside you. I'm going to fuck you hard and show you who's boss. But you, if you know what's good for you, you disobedient little wench, are not going to cum. Why the hell would I let you when you begged for my dick but didn't even say sorry for your insolence?"

"But I am sorry, I am, you know I am. And I'm sorry I didn't say it just now. Please, please I'll do everything you tell me just let me cum."

"Damn bloody right you'll do as you're told, as for being sorry; talk is cheap, show me," he sinks home into her welcoming heat, sliding in like a knife through butter his way eased by her copious arousal. His head drops back, his eyes closed, teeth gritted as he revels in the feel of her, tight around him. "Oh fuck. I'll _never_ get tired of giving it to you. You're about to get the fucking of a lifetime."

This was it. This was how she was going to die. For a fraction of a second the throbbing pulsating _want_ is sated as he fills her; just as quickly it's back and more violent than ever. His words, tone and actions threatening to take her over completely, she's losing all control of herself. She has to fight, not only because she knows he'll punish her if she doesn't obey but because she needs to prove to herself and him that she can do what he wants no matter how he provokes her.

She locks eyes with him as he pounds into her. No longer holding back to tease and taunt her but throwing himself with wild abandon into screwing her brains right out of her head. She is still desperate, she is unable to control the whimpers of desire that rock through her but he can see the acceptance in her eyes, her determination, even through her lust filled haze, to hold on. She really is magnificent.

"God Alex, you were made for this." He gasps. "Made for screwing and punishing and loving and…bloody hell!"

With a squeeze of her internal muscles she manages to whisper a 'please' as she stares into his eyes.

"Yes!" he all but yells, "Ok, you can cum, yes. Do it Alex, cum all over my cock. Drench it and scream for me. Do it now, I'm gonna…..gonna…. God I'm going to fill you up…."

Alex screams and comes apart beneath him, babbling and begging as he rubs fervently at her, his hips jerking hard and fast before becoming slightly more erratic as he spills inside her. From somewhere he summons the power of speech and manages a last few shuddering thrusts to emphasise his words.

"Don't. Ever. Fucking. Do. That. Again."

His rough growl and tight hold on her backside send a shiver through her as she comes down from her high. She smiles down at his head, resting on her chest and a small giggle escapes her. His head shoots up and his accusing gaze meets with her amused one.

"Something funny Bolls?" he asks eyeing her suspiciously. "Cos none of that was a joke from my side and I'd have to be a damn sight less lenient if you make me punish you again!"

"No." She smiles, "Nothing funny, just you telling me not to do it again. I mean you're not really serious, you love it when I push your buttons. It's why we make such a great team."

"You're right in a way," he smiles back, "but even though I might need you to push me at work, you try the insubordination too often when we're playing like this and you won't get off as lightly as you just did."

"Hmmmph! Easy for you to say, I don't see your arse burning bright red and I didn't see you holding back your orgasm!"

At this he props himself on his elbows and looks at her seriously. "I spend every single day that I see you holding myself back you dozy mare. If I catch an arse wiggle at the right angle it's all I can do not to embarrass myself like a ruddy school boy. You torture me day in day out just by being there so really it's only fair I get a little revenge eh?"

"You mean you like doing this to get your own back?" Alex gawped.

"Yeah," he grinned at her "That, combined with the fact it's the one time I can get you to shut up! Now get yer knickers on we're leaving."

Alex smiled as he moved off her and began to untie her wrists; she really would never get tired of these games.


End file.
